Draco, the Vampire Slayer Years
by Mary-Lou1
Summary: Pretty bad title but a descriptive one: Draco's a vampire slayer working for the Ministry, Harry's his partner, slash will insue.


_This story has no bearing on my other Harry/Draco fic, Draco Flavus Nunquam Male Iudicandus, its just something I felt like writing. Blame over exposion to Buffy, the Anite Blake books and the brilliant fics Acherontia Atropos and Pyractomena Borealis by katsu of katsudon.net (they're Gundam Wing and highly recommended). Anyway, please read and review. _

Disclaimer: don't own Harry Potter or anything connected with it, nor do I own anything else I mention in this fic. Cursed zombie thing nicked from X by CLAMP. 

Spoilers: for all four books. 

Warning: this is slash, Draco/Harry and mentions of Oliver/George. 

It was absolute chaos. Unit Alpha Bravo of the Department of Aurors and Slayers was attacking the warehouse that was the resting place for twelve vampires. The attack consisted of us running in there, killing as many sleeping vampires as we could and then hoping that we managed to get any that woke up before they got us. It may not sound brilliant but it had worked before, it would work again. 

The Weasley twins were currently doing good Jackie Chan impressions on a poor vampire who'd got stuck between them; Hermione was fighting her way towards the blinds that covered the windows and stopped any sunlight getting in; Harry was staking a vampire; and I was using two remaining vampires as target practice. 

Hermione wrenched the blinds up and there was a great deal of screaming and smoke as the vampires were hit by direct sunlight. There were also distinct groans of disappointment from the Weasley twins, who have worryingly homicidal tendencies. 

"Well, that's that, good job everyone," said Hermione, rubbing her hands together as she walked back down the stairs, neatly bypassing the little heaps of dust. "You can go home now." 

"Good," said George, stretching. "Oliver should be back from Quidditch training by now." 

He Disapparated almost before he'd finished his sentence, and Fred, mumbling something about Angelina, followed suit. 

"Well," said Hermione, "anyone would think they were afraid I'd spring more work on them." 

Harry and I shifted nervously. Hermione was our boss and she did have a nasty tendency of giving extra work just when it wasn't wanted. 

"I'm not going to you know," she said airily. "I'm going to go home and spend some quality time with my boyfriend. So, if you don't mind, I'll see you at work tomorrow." 

She Disapparated as well, leaving Harry and me alone in the now silent warehouse. 

The silence was broken by me as I put the safety on on my gun and shoved it back into its holster. I checked my watch: 3.34pm. Nothing to do for the rest of the day, which was not something I relished. Boredom is one of the things I hate, but, still, guess I could always spend the day at home watching TV. 

"So, Potter, what plans do you have for the rest of the day?" I asked as I picked a stake up off the floor and stuck it in my pocket. It may only be a bit of wood but it was a useful bit of wood. 

"Nothing," he said, looking as annoyed at the situation as I felt. "Bugger all really." 

I'm still shocked when I hear Harry Potter swear. He doesn't look nineteen nor does he look like the sort of person who even knows what a rude word is. He still looks like a completely innocent fourteen-year-old. I'm not fooled though, when he thinks no one is looking and relaxes he looks completely depressed, as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He doesn't anymore - he defeated Voldemort when we were sixteen - but what he went through to kick some geriactic wizard arse has had lasting effects. 

"Same here," I said, surveying the scene to check we'd left nothing behind. "You wanna do something together? Get some food, watch a film, go shopping?" 

"I know we're partners but that doesn't mean we have to hang out with each other," he commented dryly. 

"No, we just kill stuff together," I said. "Well, that's that, I'm off, see you tomorrow." 

I hadn't gone three steps outside the warehouse when he caught up with me. 

"Thought you didn't want to spend time with me," I said. 

"I said we didn't have to, not that I wouldn't." 

"It's not what you said but the way you said it," I quoted my own mother at him. 

"Fine, fine, if you're gonna be like that I'll just leave you to be a loner," he retorted. 

"Oh, I'm not, come on, lesse go see a film! Just not the Phantom Menace, once was enough! Not even Ewan McGregor could save that monstrosity." 

"You fancy Ewan McGregor?" 

"Ewan McGregor, Jude Law, a whole load of actors, most of whom are straight and married." 

"That's always the way, huh?" 

"Indeed," I said with a sigh. He grinned at me; it took all my self control not to become a little pool of mush on the floor. I've had a bit of a crush on him since we were fifteen and its just got bigger over the years. And now he's my partner at work which means I have to spend time with him which means we've got to know each other a bit better which means he's finally realised that the Draco Malfoy of Hogwarts is a lot different to the Draco Malfoy Who Must Earn His Own Living. 

Yep, I'm poor. Father threw a lot of his money into supporting Voldemort - you think those oh-so-stylish hooded robes were cheap? - and when Voldemort was defeated Father lost most of the family fortune. The Manor still belongs to me, but I can't really afford the upkeep of the place. Mother lives with her parents, because Grandfather's ill and needs her help, and Father's in Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eaters. I had never been a Death Eater and Snape, of all people, verified this in court so I didn't get imprisoned but instead got a job as an Auror. Since leaving Hogwarts I've been busy, first rounding up the remaining Death Eaters and now dealing with the increase in the numbers of vampires that Voldemort's brief return created. He pretty much offered anyone who wasn't a Death Eater as an all-you-can-eat buffet to the vampires, who accepted. Voldemort gave them a free meal every night, they left him alone and killed anyone who got in his way. Even though he's gone there are still more vampires than ever before and its up to the Department of Aurors and Slayers (DAS) to deal with them. 

The Department is run by Sirius Black, who was cleared after Peter Pettigrew was captured by Ron Weasley and shown to Cornelius Fudge in a way which left the still Minister of Magic in no doubt that the story of Sirius' innocence was actually true: basically, Ron dumped Pettigrew on Fudge's desk and performed the charm that turned him from man to rat to man over and over again until Fudge caught on. Sirius got an apologetic letter, an article in the Daily Prophet declaring his innocence and the chance to scare the crap out of Pettigrew one last time just by being in the same room as him. Pettigrew is now in prison and Sirius is my boss. 

And a very cruel boss. 

Well, OK, he's not so bad, he doesn't make me do really nasty work or anything, but there was definitely a hint of sadistic amusement when he announced that Harry and I would be partners because, apart from Hermione, no one was as good as us at what we do. I always thought Sirius loved Harry, so why he seemed to enjoy punishing him was beyond me, but maybe Sirius is just twisted. 

"Malfoy, Malfoy, Earth to Malfoy," Harry waved a hand in front of my eyes and I jumped, returning to the real world. 

"Sorry," I said, "did you say something?" 

"I asked if there was anyone attainable you fancy," he said. 

"Well, Sirius is rather nice..," I drawled, eagerly awaiting his response. I wasn't disappointed. 

"Ew! Don't you dare! That'd be - that'd be - yuck! He's old enough to be your father!" 

"Well, I always did like older men," I said dreamily. 

"So that's why Snape always gave you such good marks," Harry said with a chuckle. 

"Don't be disgusting," was my only response. There was silence again, but it was friendlier than the earlier one had been. Harry broke it this time. 

"You don't really, do you?" 

"What, like older men? Depends really." 

"I _meant_," he said in exasperation, "you don't really like Sirius do you?" 

"Nah, he's cool and everything but I don't like him." 

Harry heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief and we lapsed into silence again. This is what most of our conversations are like: big stretchs of silence followed by short bursts of intelligent and entertaining talk. Wish there weren't as many silences but at least we're spending time together. 

"Tell you what," I said, "we'll go and see a film then get something to eat, maybe go shopping afterwards." 

"Sounds almost like a date," said Harry. "But it sounds good. Just as long as I'm home in time for Eastenders." 

----- 

We ended up going back to my place after window shopping in Oxford Street for a bit. I had to drag Harry away from HMV; he'd spend all his money on his Playstation if we gave him half the chance. My place was closest so we went there, intending to watch prime time TV - or what the BBC believes to be prime time - and drink vast amounts of alcohol. Upon reaching my place I was suddenly very conscious that Harry had never been there before and suddenly very glad that my mother brought me up to be tidy. 

"You've got a message," Harry said, looking at my phone as I went to the kitchen in search of alcohol. 

"Play it then," I called to him. A second later I wish I hadn't said this as the annoyed and drunken whine of my ex floated through the flat. 

"Draco, its Nat, just calling to tell you that I don't love you and don't miss you at all but you're an excellent shag so will you come round and see me tonight? Not that I like you but I want sex and you're desperate without me. Later." 

"Git," I said, deleting the message. "Don't know what I saw in him, which would explain why our relationship lasted all of five seconds." 

Harry was giving the answering machine a Death Glare, as if he thought that it was Nat. 

"Harry, no need to glower, I don't like the bastard," I said. "Now, what do you want to drink?" 

Several hours later we'd reached several conclusions: watching Watchdog when drunk is funny but Eastenders becomes a comedy of the highest order, and Harry was too pissed to walk straight let alone get home, either on his own or in a taxi (I didn't feel like paying to have a taxi reupholstered because he'd thrown up in it) so he'd have to spend the night. I was still sober enough not to make suggestive comments, so I just got him a blanket, said he could use the settee and lurched off to bed. I somehow managed to get my shoes off and then burrowed under the covers. Yet, once I was in bed, I wasn't a bit tired. 

No, I got hit by the Insomnia Demon that makes me think all night. I hate insomnia but it looks like I've got it. 

I was thinking about Harry, mostly. I think about him a lot but the fact that he was in the other room just increased the thoughts. I was wondering about his sexuality, something I didn't have a clue about because I'd never dared to ask him. I knew he was OK with me being gay and with Oliver and George being an item, but I wasn't sure if he was gay. I knew he'd had a crush on Cho Chang but hadn't done anything, especially after Cedric's death. Cho had been grieving and Harry hadn't done anything about it, not even tried to take advantage of her in her weakened state. Not that he would for reasons of morality, but it made me wonder, 'cos he'd never had a girlfriend that I knew of. Ron and Hermione got together in sixth-year, but Harry just didn't seem interested, even though he could have any girl he wanted. Which is why I've occupied myself with the happy thoughts of maybe... 

I was shaken from my Harry induced reverie by a sound at the window. It wasn't a rattling tree branch or an owl - who make as much noise as possible if they're delivering at night - but someone who was trying to get in and was being as quiet as possible about it. I live on the twelfth floor, you'd expect people to use the lift and the front door. 

My hand slid under my pillow and drew out the gun I kept there. This one was loaded with ordinary ammo, unlike the silver bullets I use for vampires. I knew this couldn't be a vampire, because they can't enter your home unless you invite them and I had more sense than to let a vampire into my flat. I wasn't sure what it was at the window, but most things can be stopped by a bullet. 

I got out of bed and walked to the window; a stupid yet brave move. I wanted to see what it was and the only way to do that was to draw the blind. This meant that I had to be near the window, which didn't fill me with much joy but I had no other choice. 

I stretched out a hand, closed it over the string that lifted the Venetian blind and tugged. The blind slid up to reveal - 

A zombie, a big ole half-decayed walking body, at my window. I raised the gun but there wasn't time to do anything else before it leapt through the window, sending glass shards everywhere and making me jump backwards. I sighted quickly and shot it between the eyes. It staggered, shook its head and kept coming. Of course, I'd forgotten zombie rule number one: they're almost impossible to kill. If they've got to do something they'll keep doing it, even if you cut them into little bits. Right now, what this one seemed to have to do was kill me. Oh, shit. 

"Dray-cooooo," Harry whined from the other room, "be quiet, 'm tryin' to sleep." 

"Harry, there's a zombie!" I hollered, firing again. I got it in the shoulder, and it must've been quite old 'cos its arm fell off. You'd think this would be a good time, but it wasn't: the arm moved on its own, scuttling towards me like a grotesque crab. 

"Holy shit!" 

I thought I'd yelled, but then realised it was Harry. He was still in the living room, and he sounded like he'd just got the shock of his life. 

"Draco, zombie!" he hollered. 

Either he'd just spotted the one in my room or... 

There was another one, which walked into my bedroom a second later, right through the door as if it wasn't even there. So I was dealing with two zombies and had only one gun. Oh, and there was an arm clawing its way up my leg. Excellent. 

I shook the arm off, shot the other zombie in the leg and turned back to the first, shooting it in the leg as well. I'd hoped their legs would fall off, because this would immobilise them and legs don't move as well on their own as arms do, but my luck really wasn't in tonight. The zombies kept moving towards me. 

I was in danger of being backed into a corner, so I ducked round the second one and ran into the living room, where Harry was sitting on the settee looking shocked. He'd somehow managed to strip down to just his boxers and it was a very nice sight and I really should focus on the killer zombies and not on the gorgeous half-naked guy sitting on my settee but God was it difficult. 

The appearance of the zombies in the living room succeeded in tearing my eyes from Harry. 

"What should we do?" he asked. 

"Call Blaise, he knows what to do with zombies," I said, picking up a nearby candlestick and throwing it at a zombie. It didn't do anything and I couldn't figure out how to kill the damn things. I heard Harry picking up the phone and punching in Blaise's number. All I had to do was keep the zombies at bay long enough for Harry to get Blaise here. I focussed on taking pot shots because they seemed to slow them down a little and on listening to Harry's side of the conversation. 

"Blaise? Its Harry. Yes, I do know what time it is but this is important. There are zombies!...No, not at my place, at Draco's...No, I'm not sleeping with him I just crashed here for the night and - stop sniggering! I am not sleeping with Draco, but I am in danger of being killed by zombies so get round here right now and - " 

There was a pop as Blaise Apparated into the room. 

"Ah, I see the problem," he said, as if it wasn't completely obvious. "All you have to do is..." - he went for a dramatic pause as Harry and I glared at him - "finite mobilis!" 

The zombies dropped then, to even Blaise's surprise, disintegrated until there was nothing left but two scraps of paper, which lifted into the air and wafted out the bedroom window on a non-existent breeze. 

"What the - ?" Harry said. 

Blaise looked stunned. He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times and seemed to be struggling to come to terms with something. 

"Draco, have you made any enemies recently?" he asked. 

"Not that I know of, no," I said. 

"Well, you've got one, those are Cursed Cards," Blaise said. "The name may not sound particularly threatening but they're basically Cards that turn into zombies with one purpose..." 

"To kill," I said; Harry gasped. 

"Exactly," said Blaise. "Someone out there wants you dead, do you have any idea who?" 

Well there's a question you don't get asked everyday. 

_And that's where I'll leave it for now. Reviews, please._


End file.
